German, but Jewish
by SCliffy
Summary: Away from his family, in hiding, Max feels guilt and despair. His only option is for one last fight.


It wasn't long, stuck in the dark space, that Max began to feel stir crazy. The combined guilt and relief over leaving his family, swelled up in his stomach, threatening to burst with every guttural breath. Both emotions contrasted, but worked together at steadily tearing through his body. Max would close his eyes, trying to forget everything, except to focus on the dark. The dark was welcoming, full of energy, but empty at the same time.

It wasn't long, stuck in the dark space, that Max began to feel stir crazy. Fortunately, he was an inspired young man. Silently he waited in the dark each day waiting for the door to open, the harsh light to spill forth. Every day he was disappointed, and his torment rose a notch. The days spilled into each other, and Max stopped trying to keep track.

At no particular moment in time, day or night, he had no idea, but Max was sitting, ready. His time was coming, his moment of redemption. The door creaked open, and a shadow appeared in the doorway. Max waited, not even breathing.

"Max." The man's voice was low, urgent. "Max." The shadow took a step closer, and the door shut behind him. There was only darkness, but Max could hear the footsteps tentatively step toward him in the black. "Max." The man stopped, and crouched down next to him. Ready, Max wasted no time. His fist flew forward, connecting with Walter's jaw.

"Shit." Walter's voice was more of a grunt, he fell back in surprise. Springing up from his position, Max fell on top of the other man, and threw wild punches blindly. Each time a punch connected, and the other man let out a muffled yelp, Max's stomach unclenched. The frustration subsided. "Are you insane?" Walter grappled with him, attempting to grab his fists. Max's own breath was coming out in short spurts, but the exhilaration made up for it. There was nothing else in the world, except for his fists. His mind was blessedly blank. A lopsided grin grew across his face.

His inner benediction was interrupted by two firm hands finding their way to his throat and tightening like clamps. Immediately, Max stopped pummeling Walter, and slapped against the hands which would not release him. Mouth gaping open like a fish, trying to gulp in air, Max panicked. The fingers peeled themselves away from his throat, and for a moment there was nothing, until a fist flew into his face. Dimly, Max felt his lip burst, and he fell back against the concrete floor.

"Are you out of your goddamn mind? Do you want to be found?" A breathless Walter was sitting on chest, with both feet pinning his wrists to the ground. Breathing in and out, letting the air fill his lungs. Max stayed silent. "Answer me." Walter's boots grinded against him, sending jolts of pain through his arms.

"Go away." The relief was gone, and emptiness had replaced it. No guilt, nothing. It was unnerving how blank he felt. Not even the blood dripping from his burning lip fazed him.

"Stop acting like a child. Do you want to leave this place or not?"

Sullen, Max didn't bother with a response. Did he want to leave?

Yes! The response bubbled up without any pause. Of course, he was a fighter, he wanted to leave, and survive. Shame dumped itself over him next, reminding him who he had left behind. There was nothing special about him, no reason why he should be saved, when the others could not. But he was here now, nothing could change that.

Taking a few steady breaths, Max sat up, uncertain, yet determined.  
"Yes I want to leave." He admitted out loud, imagining his words curling out of the room and finding their way to his family. If they were even still alive. Palms twitching, Max had a new found urge to beat the living tar out of his friend. He wanted to beat the anger out of himself, prove to everyone that he still had worth. Instead he bowed his head, digging his nails into his arms, desperate for relief.

The silence stretched out like a cat between the two men. Max almost forgot that Walter was still next to him, when another ringing blow slammed into his head. Gripping his head tightly, Max let a moan escape his chapped lips.

"Don't forget that I can still kick your ass, even in this dank room." The two men laughed together, although neither one of them found it remotely amusing.


End file.
